


joe trohman slept with someone in fall out boy and said "no homo"

by hellorglory



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, Porn (mentioned), Sex (mentioned), Smut (mentioned), anyone of those really, idek myself, it was supposed to be prehiatus cuz anna was mentioned but then like what the hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-15 21:00:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8072590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellorglory/pseuds/hellorglory
Summary: It wasn't Joe's fault he couldn't get a clue.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of an unpublished beauty that I hated so I stopped working on it... But anyways, here's how far I got. :P

That was awesome.

Okay, so maybe that wasn't so awesome.

Yeah, that probably wasn't awesome.

Joe lay there, staring up at the ceiling, tracing the familiar patterns of Patrick's roof, even almost chuckling that he still had those glow stars stuck to the plaster. He thought about what he'd just done. He thought about what he'd just felt. He thought about what he'd just thought. He thought about what he'd just _heard_ —what he'd just **_seen_**. He swiveled his head around on the pillow, staring at the guy beside him. His _friend_. His **_bandmate_**. His eyes fluttered a bit, and Joe flinched. 

_Please don't wake up, please don't wake up._

A yawn escaped his lips, his eyelids fluttering open, his eyelashes brushing along Joe's naked shoulder. Joe shifted away a bit, but he couldn't move much considering Patrick was laying on top of his arm. He gulped, and he swore that he could feel beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. He looked back up at the ceiling, scrutinizing it harder, squinting his eyes, as if he looked harder he would disappear.

"G—"

"That was just a fuck. It didn't mean anything. I swear. We're both straight, anyways. You're going after Anna and I'm getting close with Marie. I'm sorry. Shit," he interrupted. After a few minutes of silence—which felt like fucking years—Joe turned to look at Patrick. There wasn't any emotion or expression on his face, his lips were just pressed together into a tight line. Patrick just stared for a few silent moments, Joe sweating under his scrutinization. Patrick finally sighed, closed his eyes, and rolled over onto his back, away from Joe. Joe immediately regretted saying anything.

"Yeah, fine. That's okay," Patrick stated, swinging his legs over the bed. Joe resisted staring at his bare back. He pulled on his boxer, grabbed his bag and made his way to the bathroom. After a few minutes, Joe thought he heard a soft knock, as if something had bumped into something, but it was quickly replaced by the shower turning on.

 

After Patrick had gotten out, Joe got in right behind him, his face hot and pink, even though they had just seen each other naked. 

When Joe got out of the shower, Patrick was already gone.

 

—

 

It was a few weeks after the sort-of one-night-stand the two had had when they had a show in Chicago. There was supposed to be a big party after the show since it was their last nights on the tour and it happened to be in their hometown. Patrick and Joe had barely even talked except when it was required. Pete and Andy had definitely begun to suspect that something was up, but Andy never got into anyone's business and Pete was either to busy or didn't have enough evidence yet. They were playing their last show and—due to Patrick's recommendation, although it might have been Pete's; Joe hasn't really been paying attention lately—had decided to play an oldie, even though it was likely that no one knew it. It sounded a lot different from how it was on the record, and Joe kind of missed Patrick's teenage voice, all cracky and uneven and completely unexperienced. This time, Patrick had a bit more umph or something into his voice, a bit more maturity, that probably came from Folie A Deux or Soul Punk or something.

"Walking off that stage tonight, I know what you're thinking; "He stands alone because he's high on himself", but if only you knew..."

Joe stayed focused on Patrick, his eyes not leaving him once other than the times he had to look at his fretboard. He kind of soaked in the nostalgia of all of their teenage years, all of the careless fights and arguments the band had gotten to, all of the times he probably drunkenly—or not so drunkenly—kissed Patrick, all of the times Pete had caught them and teased them. Joe was kinda jealous of Pete, now that he thought about it, what with Pete always getting to lean on Patrick, and kiss Patrick on stage. Joe was kinda pissed. But Joe didn't have the right to be pissed. Patrick didn't like him. Those were just horny teenage nights, and those few weeks ago was just some kind of desperate one-night-stand or something.

"I was terrified and would you mind if I sat next to you and watched you smile? So many kids but I only see you, and I don't think you notice me."

Joe looked up from his fretboard a few times, realizing that Patrick was staring at him as he sang. Joe awkwardly tilted his lips upward in a comforting smile, unsure of what Patrick was looking at. Patrick narrowed his eyes a bit, still trained on Joe.

"I'm not the way you think I am, no. I'm not the way you think I am, Joe."

There was hardly a change. No one caught it. Joe spotted Andy look up a bit from his drums, but other than that, nobody heard anything. Joe immediately swung his head back towards Patrick, raising his eyebrow. Patrick's face contorted into something a bit like anger, and Joe didn't want to have it during the show, so he just turned away and groaned in annoyance. This was stupid. And impossible. 

 


End file.
